


High Risk, High Reward

by GameGender



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Hale is Stiles Stilinski's Anchor, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nogitsune Effects, Nogitsune Trauma, Pack Bonding, Pack Mom Derek Hale, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek Hale, Scared Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Temporary Character Death, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28953693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GameGender/pseuds/GameGender
Summary: The Nogitsune left Stiles feels empty, full of guilt, and powerless. So, why is it after a few months that a new feeling comes to the surface? A buzzing that haunts his dreams, always just behind him.By accident, they discover that Stiles has developed the ability overnight...to bring the dead back to life. An event that changes everything and nothing at the same time. He's ecstatic to not be ordinary anymore, but when does bringing things back to life help them?Vivid nightmares, a warning from Lydia, leads to Stiles seeking out the only one with possible answers. Derek Hale. Who after a worrying encounter devotes himself to finding the answer. And a few other things along the way.When a fatal fight takes place and a decision must be made. Is he willing to gamble his life for those he loves?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	High Risk, High Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles begins to discover and understand that some things aren't as they used to be. That maybe, just maybe he's no longer ordinary.

It’s been 3 months since they defeated the Nogitsune, 3 months yesterday. Life’s been quiet, something only Stiles seemed to be perturbed by. Scott, Lydia, Kira, and Malia all feel free, undoubtedly happy with life. Scott and Kira give him cavities with how sickeningly sweet they are, Malia wants to kill the math teacher, and Lydia...well she’s Lydia. And yet somehow, Stiles is still drowning in grief, remembering Allison’s face, Lydia’s scream. He thought he’d looked on the verge of death when they separated the Nogitsune from him, but the bags under his eyes never left. Neither did the horrifying nightmares, plagues by previous enemies coming back for round two. 

Stiles has gotten good at pretending, part of him believing it’s easier for them to think he’s okay. He’d felt like he had caused enough damage already. He hadn’t figured out how to fake chemosignals just yet, a fact that is thrown his my face every time Derek is near. For a man, so decked out in leather and creepiness he cares an awful lot about his pack. 

Last week they’d all met up for a sort of pack night, discussing training and strategies for the next supernatural creature to wander into Beacon Hills. 

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” He’d asked, appearing from behind the fridge door. Causing Stiles to jump so hard the can of soda in his left hand to almost hit the ceiling.

“Dude, pack mom is so not your color,” Stiles quipped, moving past him. Making a point in avoiding eye contact, still unsure of just how far (past) alpha powers could go.

“Stiles.” He’d barked in a severe tone, one that caused the hairs on the back of Stiles' neck to stand up. Feeling compelled to look up and meet his eyes, the same scowl as always looked back.

“You lie to them all you want, but I can pick up your chemosignals-”

“So?” He bit back defensively, a sudden need to protect himself. 

“So, I can smell your anxiety, overwhelmingly bitter. Your grief, all warm and sour. Distress, which is new and overtakes everything else. What’s wrong?” He made a face at the thought of smelling his emotions. It doesn’t last before he feels frozen. Paralyzed with a buzzing feeling that races up and down his body, borderline pins and needles. Fighting to not react, he closes his eyes.

He places a hand on Stiles' shoulder, warmth dragging him back. Shaking his head slightly, before looking down at his shoes. 

“Don’t you have a squirrel to intimidate?” He quickly shoves his hand from his shoulder and walks back into Derek’s living room. 

When Scott has asked him about it later that evening, he lies and says he was just trying to intimidate him. 

But when it’s 5 in the morning and Stiles hasn’t slept once, his mind drifts back to his worry. He knows he should be sleeping, he has 3 tests today, but that’s not in the cards.

If he had put more than 2 brain cells into recalling, that wasn’t the first time Derek had done that. Derek was worried, he’d turned into quite the pack mom lately. Which gave Stiles a run for his money.

The halls moved in a flash around him, faceless bodies hurrying to their classes. They had no idea what was happening in their town, they were normal. Seemingly ordinary when compared to certain others. Scott and Kira are attached at the hip, with smiles too wide. Malia glares into her locker, her math textbook no doubts the target. Stiles' backpack felt like it was full of concrete, dragging his very soul to the linoleum floor. 

Still, he makes it to his first period. Barely remembering to flash Scott the answers to last night’s homework. The class drags on, background noise in the back of his mind. He’s startled by the bell when it finally rings, knocking his textbook to the ground. It lands with a loud thud, Lydia shoots him a worried look. Which he shrugs off and smiles back at her. He didn’t need her worrying, since she wouldn’t stop until she had answers. 

The day ends before it even feels like it’s begun. A faint memory of passing his tests, and haphazardly taken notes. He’s finally caught up to speed when there’s a loud crash from the parking lot. His head swiveling to catch Scott and Malia booking it. There’s an odd look on Lydia’s face, that strikes him to his core. He’s out the doors, taking in the scene before him. In the far left of the parking lot, two cars are smashed into each other. Faint sounds of coughing mixed with a feeble scream. His feet carry him quickly across the sidewalk, the sight of blood causing his stomach to flip.

It’s Danny, he’s bleeding bad. A large cut on his forehead, pieces of glass are embedded in his chest. 

“Danny. Hey Danny boy. You’re gonna be alright.” His hand is too cold, it feels like ice in Stiles' grip. He can hear Scott helping the other driver, Malia’s moving the wreck apart.

“Stiles...remember when you broke into my hospital room?” He nods before he realizes Danny’s eyes are closed.

“Yeah, buddy I do. I need you to stay awake. Open your eyes, Danny.-” He coughs, blood dribbling down his chin. Then his body stills, his chest stops rising.

“DANNY! C’mon wake up.” He feels tears threatening to spill, he bites his tongue to force them back. The world around him seems to go quiet, except for a shrill buzzing. It invades him, taking over every sense in his body. He wants to scream but finds he can’t as he continues to stare at Danny. He can’t feel his pulse any longer. 

“Stiles!” Lydia’s screaming in his ear, the world rushing in all at once. 

And then, Danny takes in a large breath. Coughing as his eyes shoot open, landing on Stiles.

A feeling of relief fills him, right before he’s moved aside by a paramedic. He stumbles back until his heels hit the curb. He lazily takes in his surroundings, sudden tiredness filling his veins. Lydia meets his eye, walking over to him. She places a hand on his shoulder, the same place where Derek had placed his. 

“You don’t handle blood well, let’s get you out of here.” She leads him back into the school. He finds his footing and begins to unlock his locker. Grabbing what he needed for the weekend, the sight of blood on his hand only slightly catching him off-guard.

He barely remembers Lydia driving him home in the jeep. How he’d dumped his bag at the bottom of the staircase and barely made it to his bed before passing out. Now it was dark outside, the quiet indicating it was late. His fingers wrapped around his phone, turning it on to see the time.

He’d slept a little over 7 hours, his screen riddled with notifications. Scott and Lydia had left voicemails. Surprising was the text from Derek, who must have heard about what happened earlier.

_“Stiles, I hope your friend is okay. Please call Scott back.”_

He laughed slightly, turning over onto his back. His fingers hitting the call button for Scott.

“Stiles, dude you weren’t answering. What happened?”

“Scotty, I’m fine. I was just wiped from everything that happened. Have you heard about Danny yet?” There’s a pause, it settles something heavy in Stiles' stomach.

“Yeah, yeah I did. He’s fine, like actually fine. Lydia said she’d heard he was going to...y’know. Mom said that there was evidence that he’d died, and then just sprung back. She checked him for a bite, he was clean.” He knew the news should make him happy, or at least relieved. But it only seemed to further his unease. He remembered when Danny died, how his body just froze. The buzzing in the air, his hand tightening around Danny’s cold hand. Then moments later, coming back to life as nothing had ever happened. It was wrong, the look in Lydia’s eyes reassured him of that. 

“Uh...good, that’s awesome.” His voice trails off as his mind kicks into hyperdrive. 

“Stiles dude, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, just tired. I’ll see you Sunday at Derek’s, alright?” Scott confirms, and Stiles hangs up. Letting his phone drop to the mattress next to his head. He contemplates getting up and making something to eat, but decided to get under his covers instead. Fleeting thoughts about Derek’s worry, and the feeling of ice following as he drifts off to sleep.

He wakes in a cold sweat, his heart racing in his chest. A deep feeling that something is wrong as his eyes sweep his room.

“AH, god Derek. What are you, Edward from freaking twilight?” The beginnings of dawn are just starting to stream into his room. Painting the room in deep shades of purple and yellow. Derek is sitting in his desk chair, watching him intently. 

“You didn’t answer my text.” Like that’s a justifiable answer for sneaking into his room.

“I was asleep, sourwolf.” He goes to sit up in bed, stretching his arms above him. A small squeak escaping his lips.

“What happened yesterday?” Derek rested his elbows on his knees, slight worry tracing his lips. There was tension building, neither of them chooses to acknowledge it. The silence adding to it, making Stiles unsure how to answer. This had never happened. Derek doesn’t just show up in his bedroom when he’s mad at being left on read. It’s uncharted territory, so Stiles felt it was okay to hesitate in answering. Finally, he shifted and leaned back against the backboard.

“Danny was in a car accident, I held his hand and tried to keep him awake. His hands were so cold, and his eyes wouldn’t open. And then he...he just fucking died. But then he wasn’t dead anymore and Lydia was dragging me from the scene.” He feels shy talking to Derek like this, knowing he can sense his emotions. His fingers tangle together, distracting him from looking up.

“Are you sure he died?” The million-dollar question.

“Yes...his hands were like ice. He wouldn’t open his damn eyes, and there was the blood falling down his chin. And there was this buzz that just surrounded us, and he just stopped breathing. It was like he’d become frozen altogether. I felt his pulse stop. He died, Derek.” His hands are shaking as the words anxiously spill from his mouth. He shoves them under the cover to hide them.

“And then he woke up?” Dereks questions scream disbelief. Like he doesn’t believe a damn word Stiles is saying right now. Stiles flinches back, wanting to hideaway. He was wishing he’d put the mountain ash on his window ledge last night.

“Yes, he fucking woke up, Derek. It was like the reaper had regretted his choice and thrown Danny back to us. His eyes met mine, and he was terrified. Then Lydia was screaming at me and dragging me off.” 

“Stiles I’m just trying to-”

“Do what, Derek? I’m fine now. The nogitsune is gone, and I’m fine. You don’t have to worry anymore, I’m just Stiles now.” He snaps, an immediate sense of regret smacking him across the face. 

Derek stands, pausing before he stalks towards Stiles’ bed. He leans in close, his face only inches from Stiles.

“Cut the attitude. You do not need to be so defensive, we are allowed to be worried about you.” Stiles holds his breath.

“I’m sorry…” Derek reaches forward and puts a hand on his shoulder, his fingers just shy of resting on his neck. Warmth rushes through Stiles, causing him to almost gasp.

“I know you’re worried about being thrown from the pack, but that’s not going to happen. If you need someone unbiased to talk to without being afraid, I’m here for you.” We both smile, and then like the wind he’s vanished from Stiles’ room. 

For a moment, he’s sure it was a hallucination but his skin still burns from where he’d touched him. He gets out of bed, remembering he’d slept in his clothes from yesterday. Deciding on a shower, he made his way to the bathroom.

The rest of the day was spent doing homework and researching for the crime board. He’d thrown himself into keeping his mind occupied, so he wouldn’t think about how Derek’s hands were so warm. 

His dad comes by for lunch, yelling up the staircase for him. He stands and stretches, walking down to the living room. He can recognize the smell of burgers instantly but is too tired to argue about the sheriff’s health tonight. 

They sit together, a random game on the television. He gigs into his burger, ketchup staining his upper lip. They eat in comfortable silence, no burning need to speak. A stark difference to his visit this morning.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Noah peeks over his burger to meet Stiles’ eyes. 

“Yeah, pack night tomorrow. We don’t have school on Monday so I’ll probably crash at Scott’s.” His dad hums in response.

“Preparing for the next threat, huh?” Stiles just nods, popping a fry in his mouth.

“You’re teenagers, you should be drinking behind our backs and partying. You shouldn’t let this lifestyle become you.” They both smile, and fall back into silence. Stiles’ mind is running rampant with the ideas of normal life and if he’d rather have one. He hesitates to answer, deciding it doesn’t need one. 

Although it would be nice, if all he had to worry about was finals and if Lydia would go to prom with him. But he gets to help people, make a difference, and take charge like this. He thinks of the pros, and then the cons. And one name knocks his thinking off balance. Derek Hale, a man who has saved his ass and vice versa. He was a true ally, he was pack. He...he was a friend. 

He finds himself climbing into his jeep just after 1, set on just going for a drive. Roscoe takes a few minutes to start, but then they are off. No destination set, just intuition. This leads him to a road that goes deep into the woods, the trees so dense that he has to turn on his brights. 

The air around him feels dense, buzzing with energy. He parks next to a fallen, decaying tree. Letting his feet do when his wheels had done, he picked a direction and followed it. That didn’t mean that he didn’t constantly change his path as he got further into the tree line. 

Birds are chirping from in the trees, a distant river can be heard. He finds himself drawn to the calming sound of the river. As he closes in, he takes a hard look around him. He doesn’t know where he is, or how deep in he is. 

He sits on a dry river rock, the water racing just below his feet. He closes his eyes, attempting to calm his anxiety with the use of nature. Deaton had once said you had to have a spark in you to believe. And Stiles believed in a lot. 

His eyes open just as a bird slams into the tree across the river. Its body slams to the ground. Stiles gasps and rushes to stand up. Carefully he walks across the river, only slipping twice. He makes it to the other side and finds the bird. There is no doubt that it’s dead, its neck snapped to the side with blood mixing in its feathers. He carefully gathers some leaves from the ground in his hands and rests them over its body. His hand grazes the bird on the last leave, the blood smearing on his pale skin. He leans over and washes it in the water. There’s a sadness in Stiles as he looks over at the bird. The trickling of the river, and buzzing wrap around him. His fatigue wraps around him, he wonders if he should nap here. 

Just as he stood up, there’s a movement by his shoe. A mangled chirp and then the bird is scattering away from where it had laid. 

“What the fuck?” That is all Stiles can think to say as he watched the bird that was most definitely dead fly away. Leaving only bloodied leaves behind as proof.

His hands begin to shake, panic settling in his chest. He’s not sure how to process how that bird came back to life. So, he does the only logical thing he can think of. He calls Deaton.

Deaton stands quietly across the room as he listens to Stils word vomit the last 24 hours of his life. Once Stiles falls quiet, he clears his throat.

“So, you’re telling me that in the last 24 hours you’ve been exposed to events involving something or someone dying?” Stiles nods vigorously. 

“Followed by them seemingly waking from the dead, as if nothing happened?” Stiles nods again.

“And you touched them both times, even just a light brush?” Stiles is beginning to get tired of nodding.

“I want you to tell me more about the buzzing you describe.” Stiles slouches against the wall and takes a breath.

“With Danny, it was like it overwhelmed every single one of my senses. Everything was just this buzzing as I watched Danny die. And then Lydia brought me out of the trance and Danny woke up. I felt like someone had taken 3 days of sleep from me after. And the bird, it was on accident when I touched it. But the buzzing was way less intense, it only seemed to mold into the sounds of the river. I could feel it in my hands, I still kinda can.” He takes in a deep breath after finishing, scanning Deatons face for an answer. 

“I’d like to run a few tests if you’ll allow me.” He nods again.

The tests take the next couple of hours, testing Stiles’ blood, and his reflexes. Finally, Deaton disappears into the back for a moment. Coming back with a mouse in his palm. He places it on the metal table, and then swiftly snaps its neck.

“Deaton, what the hell?” He all but yells.

“Do you trust me, Stiles?”

“Yeah…”

“I want you to hold the mouse in the palm of your hand, and I want you to tell me every sensation you feel.” He nods and gingerly picks up the mouse. It still feels warm in his palm. 

For a few moments, nothing happens. Then there’s buzzing sliding up his back and resting in his shoulders. Sounds begin to fade, intensified by the buzzing in his upper body.

He tells Deaton everything as it happens, who then records it in a notebook. Stiles lays the dead mouse on the table, him and Deaton watching intensely. 

47 seconds later, it takes a breath and squeaks. Standing upright, and scurrying away out of sight. 

“Deaton, what the hell is wrong wi-” Stiles collapses mid-sentence. His body hits the floor, a hard thud from where his head hits the cement. Deaton rushes around and sits him back against the cupboards, swiftly checking for any damage. 

“Well, so much for Stiles staying human. What are you now?” Deaton asks aloud.


End file.
